Yes, today I was rejected by my high school’s junior varsity AND varsity cheerleading squad. I guess I was never that good at it anyway, but I always wanted to believe that I was so I could fit in. I even tried out for softball because I thought I was good at it, but it turns out that that just wasn’t the case. I get nervous very easily, and when I when I walked into that tryout room, everything was spinning. The judges, the coaches, the girl with the video camera…they were all looking at me, waiting for me to begin. So I did. I wasn’t loud enough during the cheer and I forgot to smile. Then, during the dance I completely forgot how to perform certain arm movements, and my facials looked like I was a witch in pain. In short, it was a terrible disaster. About an hour ago, I went back to my school to check the list to see if I made the squad. I was number three. Number three wasn’t on either of the lists. I was completely devastated, but I kept my composure until I reached my mom’s car. Then I broke down. I mean, come on! I have been cheerleading since 2nd grade, and now I’m in 8th and I can’t make a stupid squad? In the car on the way home, I was wallowing in self pity. I kept repeating useless phrases like “What am I going to do?!” and “This is so awful and embarrassing! What am I going to tell the kids at school tomorrow?” But then something hit me- I may absolutely suck at softball and cheerleading and math, but writing is my one and only talent. When I write, I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders. If people read my work, they can learn all about me and the person I really am, instead of the person I pretend to be. In school, I pretend that I’m this totally self- confident cool girl that knows everything, but that is not who I really am inside. I that girl that you see in the hallway, holding her head up high with her shoulders back, walking in a snobby manner, but when you look at her eyes, all you see is fear. Fear of what comes next. Who will be around the next corner. Who will be the next person to make fun of her hair, or her clothes, or her barely visible zits. I’m that girl who thinks she’s too fat or too tall or has man hands. But now I know that this just isn’t the case. I’m tall, but just the right height. I’m not stick thin like those supermodels, but I am still a size 2 and that’s good enough for me. My freckles basically cover up my zits, and I don’t really have man hands. I have wide fingers because I crack my knuckles too often. Because I put myself down too much after cheerleading failed and softball failed and math has never been good for me, I was able to realize that my outside and all those superficial things mattered to me too much. I haven’t been focusing enough on what is really important to me, like my real friends and family, and my writing. Tomorrow, when I walk into school and everybody asks me how I did at tryouts, I’m not going to let it get to me. I’m going to keep walking with my head held high. But instead of letting the fear take over my eyes, I’m going to fight that fear with fire. Real confidence is going to usurp the fake confidence and start ruling. I’m going to start believing in myself. Starting right…now.